


The Hands-On Approach

by jettiebettie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jettiebettie/pseuds/jettiebettie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vex has never given Percy’s hands much thought before; she is very much like everyone else, distracted by the white hair, apathetic aristocratic gaze, and quick witted intelligence. He certainly seemed the type when they first met, the kind of man with nothing but a callus on his finger from a quill pen. By now she knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hands-On Approach

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just me trying to get used to writing in Taliesin's voice for Percy. A character study and writing exercise all in one.

“ _These hands have never seen a day of work in their life._ " 

 Vex has never given Percy’s hands much thought before; she is very much like everyone else, distracted by the white hair, apathetic aristocratic gaze, and quick witted intelligence. He certainly seemed the type when they first met, the kind of man with nothing but a callus on his finger from a quill pen. By now she knows better. 

 Percy’s hands are rough. Vex felt it when he absently took her hand to pull her along in their tour of Whitestone, long fingers circling the backs of her knuckles and pressing lightly in between them, hot and weathered tips where she half-expected smooth, cool skin. It’s something in his personality, she decides, something in the way that he carries himself that fools people into this misconception. Someone as perfectly presented and as often times as cold as Percival de Rolo III must be perfect and cold under all those fine blue robes as well.  

-  

She’s taken to shouldering her way into his workshop on nights that she’s bored in order to watch and, according to Percy, laugh at him when something explodes in his face and sets him on fire. 

 "Just a bit at first, Darling. Then I’d put you out,” she teases. He makes an irritated noise under his breath, but the upturned curve of his lips that she manages to catch before he spins to his workbench tells her he really doesn’t mind. 

 He sets about removing his overcoat and rolling up his sleeves to the elbow. Now that she bothers to look, Vex sees the scars of his work, the discoloration of long-healed burns from molten liquids and too hot metal marring him from forearm to wrist and fingers in a patternless fashion. Some places are so affected that the dusting of dark hair on his arms hasn’t grown back. Without realizing it at first, she’s reaching out and running her finger along one such scar in curiosity. Percy pauses in his movements, the blueprint in his hands half-opened. Quickly Vex tries to cover for herself, vigorously rubbing his arm in a way that’s juvenile and annoying before poking the scruff at his jaw. 

 "What color was your hair? Y'know, before,“ she asks. Percy clears his throat and gives a prolonged sigh. 

 "Oh,” he starts lightly. “Nearly as dark as you and your brother’s, I suppose. If it were still such, I wager I’d look more my age.” Vex wants to say she’s pretty sure he was born middle-aged and cynical, but she refrains. 

 "I like your hair,“ she says, feeling brave enough to run her fingers through white strands. "Makes you look distinguished, like the gentleman you are." 

 The low light of the forge is not enough to tell if he’s blushing, but she likes to imagine that’s exactly what he’s trying to cover up by nervously fiddling with his glasses.

 - 

 ” _Yeah, yeah, he’s charming. Eyes open._ “ 

Vex isn’t shy when it comes to sex and sexuality, a trait she shares with her brother for the most part. She has the occasional fantasy of a quick romp with Jarrett on the ramparts, wonders what it would feel like to have Zahra’s tail wrap around her waist and hold her in a sweet, naked embrace. When she first met Percy, or as least when they’d finally gotten him cleaned up and out of that jail cell, she could easily imagine pinning him down and rocking his world, so to speak. 

More recently, she sees those hands, those lean muscled arms, and wants him to pull her close and into his lap, wants to wrap her legs around him and rake her nails down his back. 

 Well. She does more than just want, nowadays. There are impressions from his gun harness on his chest and criss-crossing his back, overlapping scars from lashings she dares not ask about yet, that she traces with her lips; takes his fingertips in between her teeth and runs her tongue over rough pads. 

 He’s nothing but shuddering breaths and aborted movements for all of the first ten minutes before he gathers his wits and proceeds to _annihilate_ hers. 

 - 

 It’s an interesting duality to witness, Vex thinks idly, face first in the pillow and breathing heavily as her heart settles down while Percy kisses the sweaty skin between her shoulders, down the length of her spine. Intellectual, cold, almost shy one minute, passionate, burning, and assertive the next; it’s almost as if he’s not sure what he’s _allowed_ to be at any given moment. 

 She feels though, as his hands push firmly into her thighs, easing her over-worked muscles with dexterous skill, that he’s getting a little better at figuring it out every day. 

- 

 "Percy, dear, it’s freezing out here. What on earth are you doing?" 

 He doesn’t turn to look at her from where he’s perched on the balcony overlooking the front of their keep. Instead he lifts a glass of ale for her to see. He’s in nothing but his work clothes, cotton garments meant for the heat of a furnace, not the crisp air of an autumn night. Vex wraps her robe tighter around herself and walks up to sit next to him, dangling her feet over the side of the wall. 

 "Vex'ahlia,” Percy says, his voice surprisingly loud in the stillness of the night. She jumps slightly, having expected to spend the next few minutes needling him into conversation, but he surprises her instead. “What is it you hope to achieve in your life?” he asks. 

 "Pardon?“ She grabs at his glass and lifts it up, sniffing the contents. "Doesn’t smell like the Shorthalt Special.” Percy rolls his eyes and tugs it away from her. 

“It’s a serious inquiry,” he says, finally looking at her directly. “What is it you want in life? What is it that motivates you to leave your bed of a morning? What are you working towards?” He doesn’t seem frantic, but there’s something in his tone, something in his face that worries her. 

 "What’s this about, Percival?“ she asks gently. 

 Percy sighs long and deeply, looking out over the grounds. He doesn’t answer. Nervously wiggling her bare toes, Vex bites the inside of her mouth as the silence stretches. 

 "We were so lost when Mother died,” she starts quietly. She sees Percy turn to her out of the corner of her eye, but she’s focused intently on her own bow callused hands. “More so, I feel, when we lived in our father’s court. Life always felt so… _uncertain_. And when it was just the two of us, we learned very quickly that money could make things certain. A warm bed to sleep in, a meal in your stomach. It could make the authorities look the other way from time to time.” Vex bumps her shoulder into Percy’s playfully. “Vax and I figured, with enough gold, we could just _make_ our own place in the world. And look at us now! We’ve got allies, we’ve got a keep and servants, there’s adventure and fights! I can fly! We even built a family all our own. I want for nothing,” she says proudly, stretching her legs out childishly. “I guess now the only real desire I have is for all of you to be as content as I am, that I can help make it happen somehow." 

 "A generous sentiment from one so frugal." 

 ” _Frugal!_  A high-society way of calling me cheap and greedy, you jerk,“ she huffs. 

 "I like it,” Percy chuckles, the hand not holding his glass reaching to take one of hers. “There’s a sincerity to it, to avariciously wanting things for others, wanting their happiness. It’s very… _you_. That particular brand of selfish kindness- it’s an unapologetically honest contrast that I enjoy seeing,” he says with such absolute fondness that it make Vex flush. 

 Contrast. Duality. She’s beginning to think she and Percy are more alike than she first realized. 

 "And what about you? At the end of everything, what do _you_ want out of life?“ she asks quickly in order to shift the focus away from herself. She almost wishes she hadn’t when the gentle smile falls slowly from Percy’s face, a certain mournful longing taking place in his eyes. It’s a long, tension filled moment before he answers her. 

 "I don’t want to be hated,” he says, so softly Vex almost doesn’t hear. “Or feared. I don’t want my memory to be a hurt in the hearts of my friends.” He breathes deeply, sadly. “Your brother distrusts me deeply, and with fair precedent; Keyleth does not confide in me as freely as she once did. A hell of my own making to be sure, but-" 

 "Percy, they don’t hate you, none of us do,” Vex insists. Percy shakes his head. 

“Plenty of time yet,” he says in that infuriatingly cryptic manner. Despite this, he flashes her a strained smile. “I’m not, however, without hope. If there is anything that can right my wrongs, if I have any chance of being a memory worth having, I believe it can be found here, with Vox Machina." 

 "And that’s what keeps you going? A worthwhile legacy?" 

 "A worthwhile existence, yes." 

 They sit in silence for a time, the weight of Percy’s words hanging in their ears. He startles a bit when Vex suddenly grabs at his glass and chugs what remains before setting it down hard enough on the wall that it clatters loudly. 

 "Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III-" 

 "I love that you can do that." 

 ”-I will see you happy one day. You will groan and fight and insist that everything in life sucks, but I will see that it happens. Truly, genuinely and _without a care in the world happy_ , even, I dare say, if it kills me. Again.“ 

 Abruptly, Percy’s hand grips hers tightly, work-worn fingers digging into her palm. His words are hard like stone yet raging like fire, posh tones at once jagged with quiet intensity. 

 "Such a day will never come, if it knows what’s good for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Vex is Percy's aesthetic, you'll never convince me otherwise. Also I continue to the be the master of abrupt endings, hella.
> 
> (Did you know you can find me on tumblr at jettiebettie.tumblr.com? It's true.)


End file.
